This week, I am occupying two seats at the T-I office. Editor Lisa Church announced some months ago that she was planning a vacation this fall, and asked if I would fill in for the one issue, and I was honored to say yes. However, the week arrived and it felt like I had forgotten everything I ever knew about the various computer programs, formatting stories, writing headlines and general newspaper makeup. Well, yes, I have been proofreading right along, so that’s no problem. I sit at my proofreader’s desk, and all is fine. I sit at Lisa’s editor’s desk, and I am at sea. Never mind that I worked as editor for years.

That must be part of the reason most people retire while in their 60s. I am now well into my 70s, and wondering where all the years have gone. One of my siblings has passed away, and that passing has left a big hole right in the middle of what I still regard as us five kids.

I have precious, and I do mean precious, few friends left from my high school and college days. But balancing that out are the many younger and newer friends I have collected through the years.

My little Maltese dog, Mr. March, tangled with something far bigger than he is over the weekend. Never mind. March thinks he is as big as anybody. And he wouldn’t let me catch him for a checkup at the veterinarian’s until this morning when he unwittingly jumped (crawled, actually) into the car as I was coming to work. Anything for a ride in the car.

I was visiting with Jim and Lou Gostlin after Dr. Jim examined March and said that bruises were hopefully the extent of the injuries. Jim and Lou are closing the Dog and Cat Clinic and retiring this month. Over the few minutes of our conversation, Lou, who keeps better track of time than I do, said she figured we have known each other for way over 30 years now.

No potential buyers for the clinic at this time, which is a sad commentary on the world of small businesses in today’s economy.

At any rate, I see a few (darned few) of my old high school classmates around town still, and a few at the Grand Center for lunch. Lunch there is Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. ($2.50 for those over 65, and it’s good grub, you guys.)

At any rate, my inventory of friends from years past includes one from the early 1950s, before my family even moved here from Los Angeles, and a small handful from high school (class of ’57), and an even smaller handful from college.

Sue Adams Anderson and I actually met as freshmen at the University of Utah, wearing green freshman beanies (I don’t think they do that anymore), she a graduate of Monticello High, and I from Grand High. We remain friends today.

Judy Levine Magid and I met at the U. First, I dated Sam Taylor (or he dated me, as the case may be). Then Judy dated Sam. Then Judy dated Stan Magid, and agreed to be his wife and life partner. Then I dated Sam Taylor again, and later agreed to be his wife and life partner.

And to each of these two families, four children were born: Judy and Stan had a girl, a boy and then two girls. Sam and I had a boy, a girl and then two boys. These children came along at just about the same ages as one another. Judy’s son, Jon, bit my son, Tom, when they were toddler boys of the biting age. Oh, the things that make our memories!

Stan died some years ago. Sam died three years ago. Now Judy and I are old widow ladies. She complained some years back that I had grandchildren, and would probably dance at their weddings, and she didn’t.

She now has the grandchildren, and if I know Judy, she will probably still dance at their weddings. Two of my grandchildren are married. No, I didn’t dance. But each of these couples has two children.

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